


Big Bang, The

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-07-05
Updated: 2001-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-21 01:32:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11347167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Well, no plot really. My Paula sent me a shopping list and wanted me to write her a story. She wanted Alex in sunglasses, Mulder with his cap on backwards, Mint Juleps and 69... This was what I came up with to celebrate her birthday.





	Big Bang, The

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

The Big Bang by Dr. Ruthless

Plot: Well, no plot really. My Paula sent me a shopping list and wanted me to write her a story. She wanted Alex in sunglasses, Mulder with his cap on backwards, Mint Juleps and 69... This was what I came up with to celebrate her birthday.   
Disclaimer: Don't tell the Surfer Dude. I promise I didn't mean to keep them out after Dark   
Rated NC17 for Male/Male sexual activity. Don't read if it will offend   
Spoilers: Terma   
Archive: Sure...just tell me where and keep my name attached.   
Feedback: Well, hell, yeah... Need your feedback...yeah...you, I need yours.   
Feedback: 

* * *

The Big Bang   
by Dr. Ruthless 

He had not had a break since 7am. He had driven for what seemed like weeks, and his eyes were red and sore. He had made good time, his car an extension of himself as they swept past township and city alike. 

He glanced at his watch. He was passing Nashville right now, and he hoped against hope that he was going to be on time. The sun was high in the sky now, and his body ached. He was hungry and thirsty and scared. He wondered if he dared to pause and pick up something to go. He was racing against time here. 

A few minutes' reflection told him that he had better stop or he would begin to make mistakes, so he pulled into the next truck stop he passed, just short of the Alabama border. He had passed a lurid billboard advertising topless dancers and felt a little uneasy, but the place he pulled off at seemed quiet, with not a bosom in sight. He climbed out of his car and stretched awkwardly, listening to the pop and snap of his hips and spine. The place was small and a little run-down. Looking around, he hoped he would be able to fuel himself up on more than coke and candy bars. 

He flexed his spine once again and entered the diner. Ordering a burger and fries to go, he grabbed a coffee, groaning as the fragrance permeated his sinuses, energizing him. For a brief moment he reflected on the futility of decaffeinated coffee, and then paced around, sipping the coffee and trying to work out the kinks in his body. Finally, he stepped outside to re-fuel his vehicle. 

His food arrived packed into a cardboard carton, and he seized it, got a refill for his coffee and hurled himself out of the door, back towards his car. 

He had inquired how much further it was to Huntsville, and the answer had made him feel good. He was only about an hour away, and that would give him half an hour to find the place. He was going to make it unless something really bad happened. 

Sighing, he climbed back behind the wheel and inserted his key into the ignition. Perching his coffee in the holder on the dash, he opened the carton containing his food, put the car in gear, seized the first half of his burger and pulled away. 

The food was surprisingly good, and he chomped his way through it, cursing once in Russian as a piece of tomato squished from the side of the bun and plopped onto the leg of his jeans. All too soon the carton was empty and the coffee was merely a memory. He leaned forward, fiddling with the radio, trying to find a rock music station that he could sing along with, but giving up in disgust after a while. Fumbling for a cassette, he dropped the plastic case onto the passenger's seat and inserted the tape into the player, nodding with satisfaction as the sound of the Scorpions filled the air. 

There was no one in sight, and he risked a brief spurt of speed, feeling good as he drew nearer to his destination. He was passing wooded country now, and the car purred up and down the undulating terrain. He was anxious, tension showing as he drove. If he could just play his cards right, he would be able to get everything sorted out and on an even keel before the evening was over. If he failed, he preferred not to think about it. He just had to succeed. 

He wasn't sure how he felt at that moment. Exhilarated maybe, tired certainly, but hopeful. Above all, right then he felt hopeful. 

Pulling the map off the dash, he folded it back awkwardly, cursing himself for not having the foresight to do it when he had stopped. It was difficult coping with one hand, but his new arm, with the sophisticated microtechnology it contained, permitted him to make many of the movements he used to be able to make. If he only had his sense of touch back... but that was just not possible, and he had given up bemoaning his fate. 

He checked his watch. 41 minutes to go and this was Huntsville, yes it was. Now to find the site for which he had been given details. He pulled up and parked for a minute while he established his bearings. The city approach was low level, and there was no dramatic skyline of tower blocks to help him gauge how far he was from the center. He had no idea how far he was from the downtown core of this unfamiliar place. He set off again, cautiously now. He was so close. It wouldn't do to blow it now with a hold up for speeding. He observed the speed limit and attempted to remain inconspicuous. 

The house, when he found it, was small and unremarkable, with battered siding and an overgrown yard. He drove down the road for a further half a block before parking. 

27 minutes to go and he was strolling up the access road behind the house, walking briskly as he tried to hurry without looking suspicious. He wondered if the place would be booby trapped and hoped that his desperate dash was going to succeed. If he didn't, he guessed he had just better enjoy the air right now, because these were going to be his very last breaths. The fence, when he reached it, was rough wood, newly painted with preservative, and the heady aroma in the sun of the early evening was most appetizing. Somehow he felt he could chew on the timbers of that fence. 

Opening the gate cautiously, he checked the immediate vicinity, half expecting a hail of bullets to mow him down or drive him back into hiding. There was nothing but the sound of grasshoppers in the yard, and the occasional buzz of a bee around the huge overgrown shape of a buddleia bush. 

As he approached the house, he saw that the back door was not completely closed, and it bothered him. Who knew what could be lurking inside that house, behind that semi-closed door. Except they wouldn't be, would they? Surely they wouldn't be waiting for him now, with only 21 minutes left. He removed his sunglasses and tucked them into his shirt pocket, standing for a second at the foot of the wooden stairs that led up to that ominous back door. 

When he knelt in the long grass to examine under the house, he could see where the explosives had been stacked, and that there was indeed an immediate problem. Bracing himself, he stood, drew his gun, and climbed the steps to the back door. 

19 minutes now, and God please let there be no traps, no delays. That gaping back door in the plain old house appeared to him like a rotting tooth in the mouth of a whore. When he opened it just a tad more, he could see that there were thin strands of wire stretched across the threshold, ominously lying in wait to bite at his ankles. He could see the electrical connections to the wire and knew that they were attached to the charge beneath the house. 

He could feel the sweat trickling down his belly and his balls doing their best to suck themselves up inside him. 

//Not that it will help them. When I go, it will be in a blaze of glory.// Carefully, he stepped over the trip wire and inched into the room. It had been a kitchen once, he could tell, and the corpses of a dozen tiny roaches attested to the quality of the cuisine. There were no appliances left, and the lengthening shadows made the dark masses of debris on the floor difficult to make out, but he could see Mulder's jacket lying there on the floor. He knew it was Mulder's jacket, crumpled though it was, and he picked it up, slinging the silken fabric around his waist and knotting the sleeves to hold it., 

Crossing the decaying old room, eyes swiveling and ears back as he listened for any minute sound, he peered through the archway that led into the living area. The empty room was uninteresting except for the stairs to one side of it, and again he could see a trip wire. He almost missed the wire that was strung at neck height, and his balls squeezed tight as his heart did it's best to climb out of his chest and abandon ship. 

//Fuck! That was close and they say third time pays for all.// He wondered why he was there. Fox Mulder didn't even like him, and he had long ago given up any hope of snaring his affection. He had loved Mulder for so long now that the pain was a part of him. It was who he was. He tried to picture life with Mulder dead. No. It would hurt too much to know that the sarcastic son of a bitch with his shrewd eyes and kissable lips was cold in his grave. He couldn't bear that. No matter what it would cost him, he would have to save the bastard. 

He couldn't let it be, and so he was here, here now with his balls clenched and the taste of bile in his mouth, stealthing up the stairs of a filthy old hovel somewhere to hell and gone over the Mason-Dixon line. 

Goddam power-hungry Nazis. Why had Mulder allowed them to take him this way, and where was Scully when you needed her? He was at the top of the stairs now, and there were 13 minutes on the clock he had to beat for big time prizes like his life and the life of the man he could not bear to see dead. He could see the long shape of the man he sought lying flat and corpse-like on the floor of the upstairs room. 

Someone had bound him with duct tape. His wrists were tightly bound behind him, and his legs were taped from ankle to knee with no respect for the Armani. 

Alex thought he was asleep or unconscious, but as he approached, ready this time for the inevitable wire at the top of the stairs, he could see the glitter of eyes and knew that Mulder was right there with him for this ordeal. He could see that there was duct tape covering his mouth, and he stepped up to him slowly. Mulder's eyes skittered as he closed in, and Alex froze, wondering why he was panicking. 

"Is there a problem?" Flicker of eye, slight nod to accompany the flicker. Grunting sound, but no possibility of understanding what he might be trying to say. 

Alex stopped, checked his watch, 11 minutes remaining and he'd better do something about this now. He drew his knife, tucking his Sig into the back of his jeans where it would be handy. 

"Okay, Mulder, let's try this. One blink is yes, two blinks is no. Are you with me?" Blink. "Is the problem something that will get us killed?" Blink. Eyes fixed on Alex's face like an alcoholic on the last bottle in the store. 

"Can you look at it for me? Deliberate blink, then his eyes tracked down to a point almost at Alex's feet. 

"Something down on the floor here?" He carefully crouched and studied the floor. There was nothing even remotely interesting down on the floor. Rough floorboards, one of them slightly raised. He stepped away from it and saw Mulder's eyes blink once again, deliberately. 

"It's the floorboard, isn't it? Something to do with the floorboard." Blink! Desperate eyes fixed on Alex. 

"If I step over the board, will everything be okay?" Slow blink and then wince as Alex stepped across the board and knelt to ply his knife. First, the hands, slitting the tape down the middle, wincing for Mulder, who was going to need to grow a new set of hair on his arms when that tape came off. 

Transferring his attention to the bound man's legs, Alex wielded his stiletto blade carefully and swiftly, parting the tape and freeing his legs as the man on the floor chafed his wrists to try and restore the circulation. 

He checked his watch for the umpteenth time. It showed they had little more than 8 minutes remaining, and he gripped Mulder's shoulder tightly. 

"Listen to me. There are wires strung across the stairs and doorways, some at ankle height, some at neck height. The whole house is wired up to them. We're inside a bomb, Mulder, so let's get the show on the road, shall we?" He returned his knife to its sheath at his ankle and drew his gun again. Then he gestured with his head and moved off on cat-like feet, not even pausing to check if Mulder was following him. 

Descending the stairs and 

//Oh God five minutes left. Please God, let me get him out of this. // 

As they negotiated each thin filament that hung in the air between them and the safety of the great outdoors, Alex felt numb now. His earlier terror was somewhere outside him, and though he could feel the gibbering of fear it felt as if it belonged to someone else. He knew with a certainty against which there could be no argument that he could not fail. He was going to walk out of this building with Fox Mulder, even if the damned house exploded right now. 

He risked a look behind him. Mulder still had the tape over his mouth, but he was close behind him, and the wild-eyed look above the duct tape let Alex know that he was completely aware of their danger. As they paused in the kitchen doorway, Alex let fly a vicious expletive. The back door, the scary, open back door through which he had come so recently, was now closed. Swiftly, he crossed to it, pulling on the handle, but the fucking thing was now locked. 

Together they made for the living room, intending to go out of the front door. Negotiating the wires in the doorway once again, Alex was headed for the doorway at a rush when Mulder grabbed his shoulder, hissing and pointing, then fumbling madly with the tape on his mouth. 

The telltale unevenness of a single floorboard was just a step away, and Alex exhaled gustily, nodding his thanks to the man who had saved him. Stepping over the plank, they reached the front door and opened it. 

2 minutes. 2 minutes left and Alex, gun in hand, erupted onto the front porch, followed by Mulder, who was still trying to peel the sticky stuff off his mouth, whimpering as he tried to free his lips without losing skin in the process. 

As the first shot rang out, Alex grabbed Mulder and threw the pair of them off the porch and down into the thick bushes that formed the frame for the unlovely structure of the house. Mulder, the breath knocked from him by Alex's body check, was inclined to protest. Alex stood and yanked the other man by the hair, forcing him to follow or lose his scalp. 

They ran. There were a couple more shots, but by this time the two of them were beyond caring. They ran until the surge of the ground and the force of the shock wave took them down. Lying, sprawling on the ground, with the knees of his jeans ripped open and his sunglasses gone forever, Alex felt good. He lived. Mulder lived. 

So far. 

A bullet spanged off the pavement beside his head and he rolled, turned, fired and turned to run again. Where was Mulder? Ah...he could see the smallest portion of the other man protruding beyond the low fence of the yard next door. A movement from the jungle of the front yard caught his eye, and dropping to his knees he snapped off a half dozen shots, hearing a cry and then a rustling crash through the undergrowth. 

He handed Mulder his jacket and was amazed by the glowing smile of gratitude he was offered by the other man. 

Rising cautiously to his feet, he began to make his way back to his car. He had gone only a few paces when the hand fell on his shoulder again. 

"Where are you going?" The voice was plaintive and a little bit puzzled. Alex turned to look at Mulder in surprise. 

"To my car. Why?" He was beginning to feel the after effects of his sustained adrenaline high. His legs were shaking and wobbly. His mouth was dry. All of a sudden he had an incredible hard-on. He raised his eyes to Mulder's and saw concern in the other man's face. Concern, and no anger. 

"Are you going to leave me here?" The voice drew a wave of goosebumps down Alex's back and made him shiver. What did Mulder want? Why was he fucking with Alex? Why couldn't he accept the help he had offered, and go away to do whatever it was he needed to do? 

"You got here somehow. Go back the way you came." Alex shook his shoulder free and resumed his progress towards his car. The thump-thump of feet behind him told him that Mulder was following. He reached his car. Mulder was right there, at the car with him, and Alex sighed, opening the car, then stepping in and leaning to flip the lock on the passenger's side. Mulder inserted himself into the passenger's seat, fastened his seatbelt methodically, and then leaned back in the seat, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. 

"Thanks, I really appreciate your help." Mulder was strangely subdued, and Alex grinned. 

"Any time, old buddy, any time. You know I've been on the road getting here since early morning, and I'm tired... no, make that exhausted. I'm not going anywhere except for a place that can offer me a shower, a hot meal and a bed. Where do you want me to drop you?" Mulder fidgeted with the duct tape that was still wrapped over the silk of his suit. 

"I wouldn't mind a shower myself. I've got a hotel room booked already. You'd be welcome to share it if you want. It's an expense account thing." Krycek watched Mulder for a minute more, and then decided to take the offer at face value. He didn't have much cash on him, and he figured that if he could get a shower and some food inside him, he could probably drive back through the night and save himself a few bucks. 

"Okay, thanks, I'd appreciate the shower. Maybe I'll be able to drive back through the night then without needing to rent a hotel room." He was pulling away from the curb as he spoke, and Mulder indicated that he should take a left at the end of the street. They drove in a silence punctuated only by Mulder's street directions, both men feeling suddenly uncomfortable in their proximity to the other. Alex was feeling slightly light headed, and kept on biting back an alarming tendency to giggle when he thought about the events of the day. 

Eventually, much to his relief, they arrived at a hotel named The Courtyard, and Mulder indicated that he should park. Alex got out of the car and opened the trunk, pulling out his overnight bag before turning to follow Mulder into the hotel foyer. 

Evening was drawing in now, and the lights were on. The clerk behind the desk nodded courteously to Mulder as she pushed the key across the desk to him. She did not appear to notice the filthy and disheveled state of the two men she was assisting, and Alex could feel the giggles building up inside him like bubbles in a champagne bottle. He knew that he could not hold himself back from his threatened hysterics for much longer. They moved through to the lobby to the elevator and Mulder punched the button to take them to the third floor. 

They left the elevator, Alex followed Mulder along the corridor to his room, admiring the slim, strong build of him and feeling as if he were drifting loose, with nothing to keep him anchored to reality. If he were stronger, he would turn and run, but he was tired, his grazes smarted, and he was in love with Mulder, who was being nicer to him at this moment than he had ever been. 

As Mulder opened up the door and held it wide for Alex to enter, he felt as if his world was suddenly turning sideways on its axis. He was afraid. He was in love and afraid, and the man he loved was right here, next to him, gesturing to him to make himself comfortable in his bedroom. 

Alex felt very strange, as though he was walking through the pages of a story. He dumped his bag on the floor, sat himself gingerly down on the edge of a chair and waited for inspiration, or for Mulder to start smacking him around, whichever would come sooner. 

Mulder, who appeared to be totally unphazed by any of this, began to strip himself, tossing his newly created punk-Armani fashion statement into the corner of the room and turning to the closet for jeans and a T-shirt which he laid out on the bed. 

"Krycek?" The man's voice made him jump, so deep in his own thoughts had he been. He turned to face Mulder, who was now down to his boxers. "Do you want the shower first, or shall I go ahead?" 

Alex could not speak. He was juggling with the demon lust that had nailed his tongue to the roof of his mouth and ensured that it was somehow filled with sand. He crossed his leg over his knee, hoping that the other man couldn't see how painfully, dreadfully excited he was. He gestured to Mulder to go take his shower, waiting until Mulder left the room before letting himself cover his face with his hands and groan. 

Rummaging through his overnight bag, he found himself a clean white shirt and another pair of jeans. He laid them out alongside Mulder's things, and then pressed his hand to his groin, wondering how he was going to get away with this. He wore no underwear. He was sprouting an erection the size of the Empire State Building, and all it would take for Mulder to resume hostilities against him would be for him to see him naked while he was in this state. Alex reckoned that as of this moment, his life expectancy was now somewhere in the neighborhood of 7 minutes. 

//Oh, well, I saved him. Better I should die than him.// 

He was only partly joking, as that thought skittered crazily through his mind. 

He shrugged fatalistically. The clothes he was wearing were pretty much shredded. They were filthy, caked with mud, blood and grass stains. He unbuttoned the shirt, bemoaning its loss. He had liked that shirt, but it would never again be considered snappy sportswear. There was a tear through which his sunglasses had ripped, cutting into his chest as he had been driven along the ground by the force of the blast. He had a gash on his chest that, though shallow, was several inches long and stung like the devil. It hadn't quite stopped bleeding yet. 

Reaching for the buttons, he unfastened the shirt, and once it was removed, he wadded up the remains and tossed it into the trash basket in the corner. Catching sight of himself in the mirror, he sighed. His jeans would probably mend, but his knees had seen better days. The last time he had seen his knees skinned as badly as this was when he had fallen off his bike at the age of 9. The fabric of his jeans had dried into the abrasions and he knew beyond a doubt that it was going to hurt when he took them off. 

An idea came to him. He could just go into the bathroom with them on. He could tell Mulder that he wanted to soak the fabric out of the grazes, and that would work. It would be fine as long as Mulder didn't get a look at the woody that was currently punching its way out past the denim of his jeans. 

//Good thing I didn't skin that! // 

He shuddered. 

At that point it became pay or play, because Mulder wandered back out of the bathroom, and he wasn't wearing a stitch. Alex gulped and made for the door, but Mulder put out a hand to stop him. He jumped, waiting for the blow to fall, but Mulder merely indicated his cuts and grazes. 

"You take your shower, Krycek. I'll go down and see if I can find some ointment or something." He reached for his underwear, turning away from Alex and permitting him to flee into the safe haven offered by the bathroom. 

Once inside the safety of the room, he leaned against the door with his eyes closed. Visions of Mulder, the entire, unabridged length of him as he had been just a few seconds before, floated before him in his mind's eye. Alex was shaking now, he wanted him so badly. Everything about him was perfect, from the long, lean legs, through the tight butt and the strong shoulders, and his cock...Oh, God, he was gorgeous. Alex finally shucked his own jeans, allowing his own cock to spring free. 

He started the shower, reached for the shampoo and climbed in. God, it felt good. The water on his belly, and pattering onto the aching length of his cock, felt wonderful. He squeezed himself briefly before turning to the problem of getting himself cleaned up. 

Flipping open the cap of the shampoo bottle, he applied a little to his hair and worked up lather. There were things about having only one arm that made life difficult. Washing his right armpit was way up there with the most annoying things in his life. His hand strayed down to his erection and he began //Now this shouldn't be a problem to handle at all. // to slide his soapy hand along it, hissing his breath in as the ache of arousal began to change to the delicate pleasure of fulfillment. He pictured Mulder, pale and slim, in front of him and groaned at the stab of sweet energy his vision caused to leap through him. As he stroked himself and the sensations grew more intense, his imagination pictured Mulder, supple and slender, bending to place his full lips around him. The jolt from his cock as he conjured up that little image made him stagger as his balls contracted, fluid jetted, and his orgasm ran through his body, causing him to cry out helplessly until it was done. 

With the orgasm, he felt himself relax and quickly completed his shower. He brushed off the stray moisture that was beading his body and found a towel, briskly rubbing himself down. 

Picking up his jeans, he trotted out of the bathroom and relaxed a little as his mind took in the absence of Mulder. He picked up his prosthesis and began to fasten it on, fumbling slightly in his haste to be done before Mulder returned. 

He had his arm in place and was reaching for his clean jeans when the door opened and Mulder wandered back into the room, toting a plastic carrier bag full of things. 

"I got peroxide, Band-Aids, ointment...I got a whole load of really useful stuff...Here...let me take a look." Alex was trapped as Mulder suddenly got up close and personal while he peered at Alex's wound. Alex could feel Mulder's breath on him as the other man studied the gash on his chest. 

With a sinking feeling, he could sense his penis begin to take notice of Mulder's proximity, and he abruptly climbed into the protection of his clean jeans, hoping against hope that Mulder would not notice his growing excitement but knowing full well that Mulder never missed a thing. 

As he pulled up his zipper hastily, Mulder, who had been rooting around in his bag of purchases, grinned at him. 

"No underwear, Krycek? Doesn't it wear holes in your... libido?" His eyes flicked to Alex's crotch, and Alex could feel himself swelling all over again. He blushed, cheeks furiously red, as Mulder opened a bottle of peroxide and poured it onto cotton wool before slapping it onto Alex's chest. 

His ex-partner was trying to kill him, thought Alex, as Mulder's faintly malicious chuckle pierced the aura of sheer, blind lust that was covering Alex like a cloud. Mulder drew a dressing from his bag, anointed it with antiseptic cream, and slapped it onto Alex's chest, taping it in place over the cut with Band-Aids. 

Dusting his hands together, Mulder laid the items aside and inquired mildly whether he should look at his knees, but Alex quailed as he contemplated removing his jeans again. 

"That's okay, Mulder. I'll get them later. I'm starving now. Gotta eat or I'll waste away." Mulder watched him as he pulled on his T-shirt, and then checked his watch. 

"It's 8pm. Come on, I'll buy you dinner." Alex looked in wonder at Mulder, but the man merely grinned and nodded at him, and Alex shrugged his shoulders. Together, they left the room. 

They found a restaurant not far from the hotel and sat in the bar awaiting a table. Mulder grabbed the drinks menu and studied it, occasionally reading out snatches to Alex, who remained silent and unsure of himself. 

"Shirley Temple for you, Krycek? Oh no, you lack the curls. They don't offer a "Stupid-ass haircut"... mmm... We should concoct one for you. A "Stupid-ass hair of the dog that bit you" maybe? Oh, look, you can have a "Long Slow Screw Up Against the Wall" if you like, and for me, a "Fuzzy Navel." The barrage of words died down for a minute or two, and Alex relaxed. Then came the voice again. "Hey, Krycek, they've got Mint Juleps... want one?" 

"What's a mint tulip?" Alex was a little confused. He tried to imagine what Mulder might be talking about but failed miserably. 

"Not a tulip...it's julep.... j. u. l. e. p. They used to drink 'em on the verandah of the mansion before they went out and lashed a slave or two. Here, we've gotta try these things. They're traditional." Mulder signaled the bartender and placed his order. The drinks arrived. 

Sipping at his, Alex found it not unpleasant and drank it down quickly. Mulder followed suit, and they both found themselves staring into empty glasses. Mulder gestured, and two more drinks appeared. 

"When in the south, y'all do as the southerners!" drawled Mulder as he soaked up more of his drink. 

"Just as long as you don't get the urge to go out and start chastising slaves, Mulder," Alex murmured. He was beginning to feel better, more relaxed, as he watched Mulder fool around. They finished their second drinks, and a third each had just been delivered when the host came to notify them that their table was ready. 

Gathering their drinks, they made their way through the crowded restaurant to the table they had been allocated. Taking their seats, they perused the menu, finally deciding at virtually the same time that they would order steak. Mulder chuckled as Alex announced his choice and ordered their food. 

"How did you find me, Krycek... and why?" The question, when it came, acted like a bucket of cold water suddenly dashed over his skin. He gasped, searching for words that would be acceptable to Mulder. 

"They called me. They thought that I would be interested in watching your execution, knowing that you had captured me before and beaten me up. They thought I would want to see you dead. The stupid bastards nearly managed, as well. Now they know I got you out, and they are not going to welcome me to any more of their meetings, so I guess I won't be able to keep an eye on them any more. Still, it was useful. As to why... Mulder, we are fighting on the same side. If you don't want the world to be overrun by aliens, you'd better be fighting on my side anyway." Alex knocked back another mint julep and looked around for a waiter. 

Mulder didn't answer, and then the waiter appeared, bringing their meal. Alex watched him demolish his steak but couldn't summon up his own appetite, merely picking around the edges of his plate as he watched Mulder eat. They ate in silence for a while, and then Mulder checked his watch. 

"There's a sports report on the TV in about 45 minutes. I have to see what's happening with the Knicks. Did you wanna come back with me, or are you going to stay a while and come back later?" His plate was empty, and the fourth drink was merely a sticky memory. Mulder's words were carefully articulated, and Alex knew he had had a little more booze than was good for him. He glanced down at his own, half empty plate. 

"Jeez, Mulder, way too much excitement for me for one day. I'd better not get used to it. No, I'll come back with you. I should get on the road soon anyway." Alex's words were inconsequential, but behind them lay a real, desperate longing. He wanted to be with Mulder for just these few hours while the two of them were not at war with each other. He could no more have allowed Mulder to leave without him than he could have sprouted wings and flown back to DC. 

He felt good. He felt more than good; he felt wonderful. Mulder was permitting him to be right there alongside him. He was treating him like a friend for now, and Alex could not bear to miss a moment. He could not tear his eyes from Mulder's face as he watched the ever-changing flow of expressions while the man talked and ate and laughed. The duct tape had left a reddened area on his chin and lips. Those finely molded lips that Alex had been fantasizing about were reddened and a little swollen. He was very slightly drunk too, and Alex had never seen him look so sexy. His erection was back, and Alex was finding breathing to be a chore. The blood sang in his ears and pounded through veins that somehow felt too small. His mouth was dry, and his appetite had gone he knew not where. All he could think of was grabbing hold of Mulder and finally tasting that mouth of his, and he bit down on his lip in an effort to calm himself down. Somewhere down in his midsection there was a hollow where his stomach had been only this morning. He shivered as he battled with the feelings he could not control. 

The server brought the bill for their meal, and Alex reached into his back pocket for his wallet, but Mulder had already tossed his credit card to the man, muttering something about a tip that he couldn't quite catch. In a few minutes more they were ready to go. Alex was following Mulder out of the restaurant, thinking unsexy thoughts to try and dampen down his excitement, knowing as he watched Mulder's jeans-clad ass moving just in front of him, that it was utterly useless and he was going to be doomed to failure. 

The brief walk back to the hotel passed by dreamlike as Mulder filled it with artless chatter. He extolled the virtues of the Knicks as the walked, and he kept on checking his watch. 

//His turn now. Hope it keeps time as well as mine. // 

Back in the hotel room, Mulder rummaged in his drawer, pulling out a Knicks baseball cap, which he proceeded to put on backwards before clicking on the TV and settling himself on his bed to watch. 

"Okay, I admit it, I'm superstitious. If I wear the hat, they win. If I leave it at home, they always lose." Alex, who had been fighting the giggles all evening, finally lost his battle. He put down the bag that he had been re-packing and began to laugh. Every time the paroxysms were almost done, he would take another look at Mulder and begin all over again. Mulder eyed him, a look of mild surprise on his face, and Alex laughed so hard that the tears sprang to his eyes. 

By the time it finally died down, Mulder, who was shaking his head at him, had caught the results and discovered that his team had indeed won. He bounced on the bed for a minute before snatching his hat off and sailing it through the air. Alex stood up and began gathering up his belongings. 

Mulder, suddenly solemn, sprang to his feet and placed a hand on Alex's arm. 

"Don't go." The words felt like the crack of a whip to Alex, and his body shook as he tried to make sense out of them. 

"What...? he mumbled as his eyes flew involuntarily to Mulder's face. The erection he had been sporting since the restaurant leapt and made him gasp."Stay. Please don't go." Mulder's voice was quiet, and he was looking at Alex with an expression that could only be called longing, and Alex couldn't, absolutely couldn't believe that Mulder wanted him. He shook his head to clear it, thinking he had had at least one drink too many. Mulder, who was still grasping his wrist, leaned close, and Alex felt those lips of his touch and then cling to his own. 

//He's kissing me. Oh, God, his mouth. // 

Was all he could think before voluntary thought processes shut down and his basic need took over for him. He thought he might have moaned softly as those soft lips held his, and the slight scratch of Mulder's evening beard made him shake. He might have moaned, or it could have been Mulder. Mulder's eyes were closed, and the hand on Alex's wrist was stroking it gently, while his other hand moved up to lie against Alex's cheek before sliding past Alex's ear and through the short hair to cup the back of his head. 

Alex felt possessed completely by the kiss. In a dream, he parted his lips, and immediately Mulder's tongue slipped into his mouth to explore, sliding against his own as it stroked along his sensitive palate and brushed over the ridge behind his teeth. Mulder released his wrist and slid his arm around Alex's waist, pulling him into his body, pressing himself up and down the length of him as his hand stroked Alex's back. 

The feel of Mulder's body pressed hard against him was almost more than he could bear. He had loved the man so long and had never imagined that they would ever be together like this. He groaned, and put his arm around Mulder, holding him as hard as he could as he responded to the passion of the kiss. He tasted mint and the bite of the booze on his tongue, and something else, something that was purely Mulder. He closed his eyes and lost himself in that kiss, feeling his own erection press against Mulder and Mulder's response to him, clearly defined through his jeans. 

They continued to kiss as they held each other, hands roaming over each other and tongues dueling. Alex wanted the moment to last forever. When at last they broke that kiss, breathless, they continued to embrace each other as they looked into each other's eyes. 

"According to Chinese philosophy, if you save my life you have to assume responsibility for me. I hope you know how to deal with me?" Mulder placed his forehead against Alex's and nibbled thoughtfully on the tip of his nose. 

"You mean I own you?" Alex's husky voice held undercurrents of laughter, and he chuckled as he ran his tongue down from the corner of Mulder's mouth to the spot just behind his ear, before fixing his lips to the pulse point there and beginning to nip at the flesh. 

Mulder's hands were busily working Alex's T-shirt free of his jeans. He finally had it loose, and his hands slid upwards under it to move over his back and shoulders, before one hand worked its way inside the waistband of his jeans, fingers reaching to stroke as much of him as could be reached. 

Mulder's head was thrown back, and he arched his neck to allow Alex access to him. Alex sucked on his neck and throat while Mulder gasped, his hands clutching him urgently. Alex was finally doing all the things he had dreamed of for so long. He had Fox Mulder in his arms and he intended to explore every part of him that he could reach. He was tingling all over, and his heart was pounding. When Mulder pushed him away, he whimpered, pulling back to look at Mulder out of glazed green eyes. His mouth worked, but the only sound he could manage was a croak. 

"It's okay, Alex, I just want to feel your skin against mine. Here... let me..." Mulder tugged at Alex's T-shirt, pulling it off over his head. Once it was removed, he turned his attention to the buckle of his belt, unfastening it and then opening Alex's fly. Alex seemed to be functioning on automatic pilot, allowing Mulder to put him wherever he willed. Mulder pushed down Alex's jeans, exposing his cock, rigid and leaking, then he dropped to his knees, surprising a gasp out of Alex. 

His arms slid around the center of Alex's body to cup his buttocks, pulling him forward and putting out his tongue to lick around the purple head of his penis. Alex, pants around his knees, could do nothing for fear of overbalancing. He moaned as Mulder licked around the ridge of it, then moaned again as he swiped his warm, wet tongue up and down the length of it from base to head. When Mulder opened up those beautiful lips that Alex had been fantasizing about all evening and took his entire cock into his mouth, he screamed Mulder's name. Mulder swirled his tongue against the head of it as warm, wet suction sent thrills through Alex's body and caused his balls to climb up and lie tight against the base as they prepared to jet out his semen.Once more Mulder pushed him away, guiding him back a pace until he was against the edge of the bed, and then shoving him back onto it so that he fell spread-eagled and open to whatever Mulder might choose to do. Mulder caught hold of the hem of Alex's jeans, and tugged them down and then off his legs. 

Alex lay, naked, cock twitching, as he watched Mulder perform a kind of demented striptease, slowly wriggling free of his clothing, before climbing onto the bed and straddling Alex's chest. Alex ran his tongue over the inside of Mulder's thigh, and then tenderly applied his lips and tongue to Mulder's balls, sucking gently. 

Alex stroked Mulder as he licked and sucked at him. Mulder took hold of his face, holding his head, and then suddenly slipped down the bed to lie over him, and once more the couple kissed. Alex cupped Mulder's butt, pulling him tight against his straining erection, and the pair of them snuggled together, kissing and stroking as they whispered little endearments to each other. 

Mulder rolled to one side, so that he could bend and kiss Alex's chest, trailing his tongue over the responsive, rubbery, pink-brown nipples, and pausing to suckle them, one at a time before moving on down to his belly. Alex wanted so desperately to touch him. He took hold of Mulder's thigh, pulling urgently on it until Mulder squirmed around to lie with his head towards Alex's feet. As Alex began to lick and nibble at Mulder's penis, Mulder took Alex into his mouth again, swallowing him down as far as he would go, and moaning against the one-armed man's erection as he felt the pulse and surge of Alex's excitement. 

Alex, meanwhile, had encircled Mulder's thighs and was doing his best to suck the whole of him down into his throat, his nose buried in the soft curls that grew around the base of his cock. He could feel the other man's excitement in a series of little tremors that grew in intensity as they became rougher with each other. 

Alex could feel the scrape of teeth, the rasping of tongue, and the moist suction of the other man's mouth as he busily worked on him. He parted his legs wide and felt Mulder's exploring hand stroking his ass. Moistening his own finger, he slid his hand around behind Mulder, finding the little pink rosette that was his anus and circling his wet finger around and around until it finally slid inside to the first knuckle. At that point he heard Mulder cry out, and removed his finger to add more wetness, before returning it to the same place. As he slowly finger-fucked Mulder, he could feel his own tension building irresistibly. The finger was now sliding in deep enough for Alex to feel the little gland inside that would give Mulder a jolt of lightning. He rubbed his finger over it and was rewarded by the jerk and spasm of the man he was making love to. 

He was just congratulating himself on making Mulder come first when he felt Mulder suck hard, swallowing against the head of his cock to massage the tip. All of his sensation gathered in a series of tidal waves that gathered height and speed before slamming him senseless into Mulder's throat. His muscles contracted. The finger he had deep in Mulder's ass flexed as he came, and the semen shot as he sucked on Mulder's cock, grunting and gasping out his completion. 

Mulder continued to suck him until he had subsided, and Alex could sense that he was close. He inserted a second finger and thrust in to stroke Mulder's prostate and was rewarded by a scream of pleasure as he felt Mulder explode inside his mouth, flooding him with the jets of sperm that he expelled. 

Lying there on Mulder's bed, the taste of him still on his tongue, he felt as though he had never in his life been so happy. When finally Mulder, still panting, wriggled around to come back to Alex's level, Alex seized his face by the chin, kissing him roughly and exchanging his taste for Mulder's. 

As they fell asleep in each other's arms, Alex had finally come home. 

 

The End   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Sue aka Dr. Ruthless

  
Archived: June 02, 2001 


End file.
